


Hunger Games - My Ending

by BPersephoni



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BPersephoni/pseuds/BPersephoni
Summary: This is how I imagine the Hunger Games ending.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Katniss & Peeta's Children/Peeta Mellark
Kudos: 6





	Hunger Games - My Ending

Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair, and hangs in until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promises that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?”

I tell him, “Real.”

**EPILOGUE**

And now, a near thirty years after I released that arrow into Alma Coin’s chest, life is better than I could have imagined.

Annie has her son - the son of Finnick - who she named him after. But, his death hurts too much to say the name, so he goes by Junior. Gale moved to District Three and quickly flew up the ranks, getting the job as Head of Defence. He fell in love with an amazing woman, Pamila, and has three children together. Once a month they come home to District Twelve, Gale and I hunt and cook food and we all have dinner together. 

Mother never returned to District Twelve, and really I can’t blame her. The pain of seeing the place she grew all new, and the thought of returning to the house where Prim once lived kills her. But she still calls every day, and I visit as much as possible. Haymitch still lives only a few doors down. HE sobered up mostly, after Peeta and I asked him to be the Godfather on the condition he cleans up his act, and he did. Effie is the Godmother. She lives up at the Capitol as the Head of Organization. She comes down once or twice a month for dinner as well.

And as of Peeta and I, we still live in my house at Vitor’s Village. He moved in about five months after he returned, when my nightmares kept waking him up, even from the other house. We married three years later, and after five, ten, fifteen years of convincing arguments and pleads from Peeta, we finally decided to have a child. 

The first carry was hard, the first time I felt her move inside me scared me half to death, and nothin calmed me down until I had her in my arms, my little girl, my Prismarine Pearl Mellark. She has dark hair like me, but blue eyes from her father. She is just like him, her way with words and optimism in any situation. She is also extremely smart, just like my Prim. She wants to be a doctor, and to help the people that need it. 

Three years later I got pregnant again, and this time it was a bit easier, not much. Haymitch Finnck Mellark. His blonde curls and grey eyes, and his attitude as a wolf like mine. He loves to follow me into the woods when I go, with his fake bow and arrow that Peeta got him, shooting at the trees. And for a six year old, he has a pretty good shot. He is curious, always asking about our time in the arena, or how the revolution happened, or why I am called the MockingJay on the streets. Peeta always silences him, not wanting to bring back any harsh memories for me.

He is much better at that, Peeta. He still has the episodes where he feels the darkness that Snow put into him starting to creep, but he makes it disappear as quickly as it comes. On the other hand, I still have dreams. Everynight. Sometimes it is small, just me seeing Prim’s name being pulled at the reaping of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, or as bad as some Snow follower taking power, restarting the games and putting my children in, making them fight for their lives as I sit and watch. Powerless. 

Those nights I wake up screaming. Peeta simply stands, leaving the room and caring both Prim and Haymitch into our room. Prim on my side, and Haymitch on my stomach. He lays on the other side, holding me as I clutch my children to my body, protecting them from the evils that I know no longer exist, but still scare me more than anything.

One day I will need to tell them of why their mommy wakes up screaming at nights, and why they will never really go away, I’ll tell them of my first game, how I survived, and how I continue to. Some mornings, it is hard to enjoy anything, in fear of losing it all. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after thirty years. 

But there are much worse games to play.

**THE END**


End file.
